


artistic af

by brandywine421



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hobbies, Knitting, Light Angst, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 15:02:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7897222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandywine421/pseuds/brandywine421
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Aw, man, stop with the gifts.  My wife and daughter can't stop cooing over that shit.  I thought you were coming through,"  Clint said, clipping in his earpiece and flicking through photos on his phone.</p>
<p>"Soon.  Panama is bananas," Steve replied tinnily.  "I kind of like it here."</p>
<p>Clint froze.  "You met a girl, didn't you?"</p>
<p>"Why is that the first place everyone goes to?"</p>
<p>*AKA: Steve's Emo Roadtrip of Woe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	artistic af

**Author's Note:**

> All images were found using Google Image search and do not belong to me or anyone I know. They are not making me any money.

 

 

 * **I'm much better at still-lifes but this isn't too bad.** **Expressionist af.***

  
"What are you looking at?" Tony asked, coming into Rhodey's room for his second check in of the day.  Rhodes knew he was going to be devoured by guilt but this stint was lasting longer than he was accustomed to.  
  
"Cap's got himself an Instagram," Rhodes answered, maximizing the image.  "And a new coffee maker."  
  
Tony's face flickered with curiosity before settling back into hostility.  "So he's undercover as a barista?"  
  
"Hard to tell from an Instagram but I don't think he's undercover," Rhodes replied.  
  
"Why are you looking at it?"  
  
He took a deep breath.  "Because we were very lucky not to lose anyone in that fight."  
  
Tony's nostrils flared.  
  
"And you know damned well that video of your parents being killed was doctored with your own tech," Rhodes added.  "You know that's not the road where they died and even if it was, you know there were no cameras on that stretch.  So before you get all riled up, think about that.  If I get to go into retirement as a cyborg, then he should be allowed to go into retirement as a barista."  
  
Tony rapped his knuckles on the desk.  "Well, the picture's cute and everything but it's all about how it tastes when it comes to coffee."  
  
"Rwanda Blue Bourbon," Rhodey said.  Tony's jaw snapped shut.  
  
"Whatever.  Time for PT so close out your coffee porn."

 

***When your friend wants shoes for her birthday and you're broke af. :(***

  
"I didn't actually want you to buy me shoes. It was more of an incentive to get you out of this shithole apartment, for the day," Natasha said.

Steve sipped his coffee. "You don't even have a real birthday, the shoes were for Wanda. I bought you tea for your unbirthday, though."

Her inner tea-slut twitched toward the kitchen but she held firm. "Did you go outside to buy it?"

"The internet is glorious," Steve replied, taking another dainty sip and being infuriatingly unmoved by her rising lecture.

"Steve."

"Natasha," he countered, finally making eye contact only to raise an eyebrow at her.

She crossed her arms. "Fine. Lecture delay accepted, where's my present?"

 

 

***So far so good.  Named him Alistair.  Moody af.***

   
"He stole my plant," Bruce said.  
  
Natasha looked up from her book.  "Are you accusing Captain America of being a thief?"  
  
"I'm not Captain America anymore," Steve called from the back.  
  
"He stole my plant," Bruce repeated.  
  
"I rescued him!"  
  
"See?  He needed a mission and Alistair needed a rescue," Natasha said, returning to her book.  "Steve wouldn't have intervened but he just couldn't walk away."  
  
"We are talking about the plant, right?" Bruce paused until she nodded.  "Alistair is a lying liar who lies."  
  
"He's had a very hard life and deserves his freedom!" Steve called.  
  
Bruce sighed.  Natasha raised her eyes and smirked.  It was the closest to a smile he'd seen since she turned up on his doorstep.  "I'll buy you a new bonzai, Bruce."  
  
He thumped the back of her book but he didn't speak whatever language it was in so he resigned himself to make peace with the plant thief in his guest room.  
  
Aforementioned Thief walked out with a round glass bowl holding a colorful fish.  "This is Grand Duke Percival and he needs protective custody."  
  
Natasha hid a snicker in a sneeze.  
  
"Fine.  But I want visitation rights with Alistair."

 

 

***Some of my best friends are birds.  Lonely af.***

   
"Aw, man, stop with the gifts.  My wife and daughter can't stop cooing over that shit.  I thought you were coming through," Clint said, clipping in his earpiece and flicking through photos on his phone.  
  
"Soon.  Panama is bananas," Steve replied tinnily.  "I kind of like it here."  
  
Clint froze.  "You met a girl, didn't you?"  
  
"Why is that the first place everyone goes to?"  
  
"Then what?  It's hot as fuck down there and you're knitting tiny plush toys for my kids to fight over," Clint pointed out.  
  
Steve and his dramatic pauses made Clint wait for it.  "I've been learning to scuba dive and I have another week before I get my expert certification.  Thor's got all these plans - "  
  
"Pause.  You're taking scuba diving lessons with Thor and posting pictures of knitted birds?" Clint stuttered.  
  
"Well.  Yes."  
  
"Worst photographer ever."

 

***A worthy distraction technique when my therapist is being annoying af.***

 

 Steve winced when one of his burner phones blasted from his overstuffed dufflebag. Now he had to unpack the whole thing.

Finally he found the offending tech and raised it to his ear. "Rogers."

"You're seeing a shrink?" Sam barked in his ear.

"Jesus, why didn't you use the regular phone for that kind of call? But yeah, I'm doing Skype sessions with this lady. It's different."

"Different from what? You don't believe in shrinks," Sam reminded.

"Different than a priest or a chaplain, I guess. I don't know if I like it," he said. "I already know how to do my Hail Mary's and the rosary but coping mechanisms and meditation weren't much more involved than that."

Sam went quiet. "It's a good thing. You're trying and that's all I can ask. It might help or it might not but it's not going to hurt."

"I broke all my knitting needles. And my toaster."

"Unrelated, I hope," Sam chuckled.

Steve didn't answer because he didn't want to lie.

"Where are you headed next? Is it my turn to be graced with your presence? Ma really wants to see you."

He glanced over at the unfinished page in his notebook. "Not yet. I need some private time after a week with the Bartons."

"Too much family time?"

Too much watching lives he would never have. "Yeah."

 

 

***Made some awesome new friends.  Fun af.***

 

 "I wasn't sure about the idea of your new friends, but I gotta say, Wanda, yolo," Steve grinned, jostling her bare shoulders with his sweaty tree arms.  
  
She wrinkled her nose.  "Gross.  And I only participate in parkour because I have to stay battle-ready," she said.  Her eyes followed Troy's rippling thighs as he tugged up his shorts in preparation to run up the incline for a flip.  
  
"Sure," Steve smiled.  "It's just nice to have a visit where I'm not under a psychoanalytic microscope."  
  
"Clint's children told me to buy you all the ice cream.  They are very sorry for pruning your plant without permission," Wanda said.  "The oldest one was crying.  Why are you making children cry?"  
  
"Oh my God, I told them it was no big deal.  I left Alistair in my bathroom, he likes the steam from the shower, shut up," Steve started, glaring at her when she stopped fighting her laugh.  "They trimmed, like, one branch.  I didn't even freak out."  
  
He was almost pouting and Wanda filled with fondness.  This was her Captain.  Captain Pouty.  "But you noticed."  
  
"It's Alistair, so yeah.  He's very neurotic about his reputation," Steve said.  "I didn't notice right away, though.  And when I did, it was like, I let him down.  I didn't even notice he was missing a piece."  
  
That got deeper than she expected.  
  
"I'll call and apologize.  I didn't know they noticed I was upset - that they thought it was their fault when it was just me and my headspace," Steve said.  "I told my shrink and she said it was good that I acknowledged it."  
  
"Steve..." she started.  
  
"Your boy's going for it," he said, nodding his chin as her friend, so far, took off in a sprint to tackle the wall.  She saw the moment he lost his direction and started to plummet.  
  
She winked at Steve and curled her finger to cushion the man's fall in a swirl of red.  
  
"Thanks, Luv!" Troy called to her, bouncing to his feet.  It was almost noon, the shirt would be coming off soon.  
  
"So.  Coachella sounds fun, right?" Steve asked, reminding her way too much of Pietro with his cock-blocking grin.

 

 

***Designated drivers win all the bets.  Sober af.***

 

"Lang."

Scott's memory flipped like a beer-soaked Rolodex where the cards were all stuck together. Then it clicked. "Stark? Shit, how did you get this number - this very incorrect number that has nothing to do with anyone named Scott, or Lang - "

"Jesus Christ, you're mouthier than the Spiderkid, but listen - "

"I don't know the protocol for this," Scott said. He knew the rumors from the other second-string Avengers that Stark was sniffing on Cap's trail but he didn't think of how to handle it if it was his turn.

"Protocol? I'm not calling you for backup, Pym top-secret horseshit - "

"Hey," Scott cut him off. "I'm tangentially related to that horseshit. What do you want?"

"I want to talk to Barnes."

Scott froze. He turned and glanced over where Steve was deep in combat mode with the hacked X-Box headset linking him up to fuck knows who. "Dude. What are you talking about?"

"I follow Captain Emo's Instagram and he hasn't shown up once," Tony Stark said.

"If I remember correctly, no faces have ever been shown in his hypothetical pictures."

"I want to talk to him - before I talk to Cap, I have to talk to him."

"Good luck with that, asshole," Scott said.  "You've got the Boss Man's number if you want to talk to him, I don't even know you."  
  
"He's your Boss Man now?" Stark snorted.  
  
Scott huffed.  "Have you ever played cards with the bastard?  He owns me forever.  He makes me rinse the dishes before I put them in the dishwasher."

 

 

***Come at me bro.  Hipster af.***

   
"Oh my God, Steve, when you said you were going to keep yourself busy, this wasn't what we wanted - nobody wanted this.  There are so many roads, man, you ain't gotta go down this one," Sam gasped, holding up his hands.  
  
Natasha's eyes went wide with horror.  "No.  Not like this."  
  
"It's just a ukulele.  Wanda's boyfriend is in a band," Steve said with proud eyes.  
  
Sam prayed the guy was fucking with them.  But he figured God was fucking with them all so he wouldn't answer him.  
  
"Ooh, I think I've got my tambourine in my bag," Bruce perked up suddenly.  
  
"Jesus Christ, Wanda, what have you done?" Clint accused.  
  
"Just be glad it's not a harmonica, he's shit at it," Scott yawned.  
  
"Come on, guys, you'll like it - the ukulele makes all songs sound happy," Steve promised.  
  
"Find out Wanda's boyfriend's stats and I'll take him out," Natasha murmured under her breath and Sam refused to admit that it would be a better option than the horror to come.

 

 

***I don't think I have the right kind of pencils for this.  Unprepared af.***

   
"Why did you have your test results send to my Ma's house?" Sam asked when Steve answered on the first ring.  
  
"Oh.  I didn't, I have a PO Box.  But you have the key to that PO Box."  
  
"Oh.  Ma must have checked the mail for me.  Sorry."  
  
"Did I pass?" Steve asked.  "Open it for me.  Please."  
  
Sam sighed but inside he felt like a fond parent who could totally check his own mail.  "Hang on."  
  
"If I did better than Wanda, I can't tell her.  I colored through all the prep classes," Steve said.  
  
"1560."  Sam whistled.  "800 Math and 760 Verbal."  
  
"Huh.  That's higher than Troy and Duffy's scores combined," Steve said.  
  
Sam scrubbed a hand across his face.  "Please stop hanging out with beach bums, Steve."  
  
"I'm only sticking around a few more weeks to make sure Wanda's settled.  You want to come to Hawaii when I leave?  Thor's meeting me there," Steve said.  
  
"Okay, serious question.  Why did you take the SAT if you weren't going to use it to go to school?" Sam asked, suddenly tired.  He really was like a parent here.  
  
"The internet is glorious and I can take classes anywhere.  But Hawaii has volcanoes and waterfalls and beaches.  You know you want to come to Hawaii."  
  
He sighed.  "Fine.  But you're buying."

 

  
0

***Homesick af.***

   
"You're not a wanted fugitive anymore.  You can set up shop whereever you want," Tony said before Steve had a chance to say hello.  
  
So he waited a moment before saying hello.  "How are you?"  
  
"What is with the 'af' anyway?  It's not cool, it's not even funny."  
  
"It's an all-encompassing adjective," Steve said.  "What else is on your mind other than judging my internet slang?"  
  
He had been expecting the call but Tony had only contacted his friends and never used his number before.  It was curious when he was pretty sure that the supervillains were still quiet.  
  
"Where's your bff?"  
  
Steve held his breath but exhaled after a three count.  "Why do you care?"  
  
"I'm trying to be the bigger man here."  
  
"Then leave him out of any and all your conversations with me," Steve replied.  
  
Tony inhaled sharply.  "Is he...shit, Steve.  Is he dead?"  
  
Steve hated lying.  "Close enough."  
  
"What?  Where - okay.  Not my business.  So truce.  Stop your round the world moping trip and come home."  
  
"Home?  Sorry to say that I'm a long way from home," Steve replied.  "Thank you for helping get the charges dropped."  
  
"I can admit when I'm wrong.  Most of the time.  I still stand by - "  
  
"You didn't call me to argue," Steve interrupted.  
  
"Right.  Sure.  So.  You're okay?  I mean, you usually have a sitter I can call before you," Tony said.  
  
"I needed some private time to study," Steve replied.  
  
There was shuffling on Tony's end of the line.  "You can have private time in New York."  
  
"How do you know I'm not in New York already?"  
  
"You're homesick as fuck," Tony replied.  
  
Steve held his breath another five count.  "It was my Ma's birthday and I would have liked to put flowers on her grave.  But there's a hat store where the cemetery used to be.  I don't think Brooklyn counts as home anymore."  
  
"You need a hobby."  
  
"Really?  Everyone else tells me I have too many hobbies."

"A man can never have enough hobbies."

"Something we agree on, who knew you'd be on my side of an argument again this soon," Steve said.

 

***Went on a blind date with a pastry chef. Made her dinner and tried to show off. Dumped af.***

   
"Oh my God, you have to tell me everything, all of it, skip no details," Sharon said. She wanted, no, NEEDED the scoop before Natasha.

"Can't talk, drowning my failure in chocolate."

She groaned. She owed it to her Aunt to finish the Education of Steve No-Swagger Rogers in her honor. "Come on, Steve. What happened?"

"She was supposed to be a pastry chef, I didn't know she'd get all weird when I tried to make cute desserts. Do you know how hard it is to temper chocolate? I mean, did you know tempering chocolate was a thing that happened?"

"Rogers, you are clueless. You can't one-up the woman on the first date. That would be like a girl wrestling you to the ground for a ten-count on the first date."

"That would be hot."

Sharon didn't bang her head on the desk.  She wanted to but she was all about the self-restraint.

"Sorry. White chocolate is disgusting."

"Everyone knows that," she replied absently.

"Since I'm dateless and have tons of leftover chocolate to eat, do you want to - "

"I'll be there in two hours."

 

  

***Alistair wanted a place to entertain his friends.  I am much better at carving than at chess.  Uncultured af.***

  
"You have improved," T'Challa said, examining the carved chess piece.  A couple of his advisors covered their snickers with coughs but Steve was a good sport.  He was just remarkably bad at chess.  
  
Steve smiled.  "I'm keeping the board because, well, the trees, but I'm leaving pieces at all my safehouses."  
  
"You are welcome.  I notice you have not asked of your friend's health," he said.  
  
Steve looked away and T'Challa's worry settled when he spoke.  "I went by the clinic earlier and said my hellos.  I know you would've contacted me if there were any change."  
  
"We are making progress, Captain," T'Challa said honestly.  "It won't be forever."  
  
"I'm making progress, too, I think.  Maybe I'll be a whole person when he wakes up," Steve replied.  "We'll see."  
  
"We have all been following your progress, Steve.  You are healing.  Barnes will heal as well when it is time."  
  
Steve shrugged and T'Challa nodded to the guard who bowed and approached with a carved box.  
  
"The children of the royal household have quite enjoyed your plush cat gifts," T'Challa said, smiling when Steve opened the box to reveal the Vibranian knitting needles.

He laughed and clicked the needles together.  "Thank you.  I can make rabbits now, too."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have been uninspired af lately. But I swore I was going to write something today and this happened.


End file.
